Maybe He'll Notice Her Now
by Sydney Lynne
Summary: Songfic to Mindy McCready’s "Maybe He’ll Notice Her Now." Ginny is married to Harry and feeling unappreciated. Maybe it’s time to take action. Post-Hogwarts H/G angst.


Maybe He'll Notice Her Now.

Summary: Songfic to Mindy McCready's "Maybe He'll Notice Her Now." Ginny is married to Harry and feeling unappreciated. Maybe it's time to take action. Post-Hogwarts H/G angst.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. JK Rowling owns all. Song is from Mindy McCready's album, "Super Hits."

A/N: Anyone who recognizes me from my FictionAlley ramblings knows that I am a rabid H/H and D/G shipper. But I needed some practice for writing my first fanfic, so here's my first and probably only attempt at a OBHWF fic. It's un-betaed, and the product of an afternoon of random writing. I don't read H/G so I apologize if this has been done before, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Oh, and I am not British so there will be Americanisms, be forewarned. PG for language. Dedicated to all the Ginny Weasleys of the world, and their Harry Potters. And to those who are kind enough to review, is it obvious that I don't like H/G?

Fic here *******************

The room was in shambles. Stockings, blouses, and dresses were strewn everywhere as Ginny Potter attempted to pack up her life. A messy ponytail pulled her limp red hair back as tears streamed down her pale cheeks.

Fifteen years. For fifteen f---ing years she devoted her life to this man, the Boy-Who-Lived, now the Man-Who-Defeated-Voldemort, wanting nothing but to ignite a twinkle on those often sorrow-laden emerald eyes. But had he ever appreciated her? 

It was always she who made the first move. She who sent him unanswered valetines and get-well cards when they were children. She who mustered up all the courage she had to ask him to the Halloween masque in her fifth year, when Harry had despaired over another rejection from Cho Chang. She who tended his wounds during his final battle with Voldemort, trying not to feel stung that he constantly asked for Ron and Hermione in his delirium. But never her, who was supposedly his girlfriend. 

Hell, it had been practically her idea to get married. After the war, when Harry had recovered from his injuries, he had been desolate. For the past seven years, his one goal in life was to avenge the murder of his parents, and now that it was done, he felt strangely empty. Ron and Hermione were getting married and Harry felt closed off from his best friends. She remembered sitting on the porch with Harry, as his sad eyes looked into the distance to where Ron and Hermione were holding hands. Timidly, she had reached across to him and grabbed one of his cold hands—his right hand—come to think of it.

"Harry," she had said gently, "I hope that you realize that you're not alone. You'll always have our family. And me." She had uttered that last part very softly, feeling her cheeks flush with the heat of embarrassment. When she looked up again, his eyes were the softest, grassy green that she had ever seen them.

"Ginny," he had choked, "You don't know how much that means to me." He bit his lip, looking rather nervous. "Ginny…" He took a deep breath. "Would you, would you do me the honor of marrying me?"

A cry of ecstasy escaped her throat as she flung her arms around him. "Yes! Yes, Harry Potter, I will marry you." 

It had been a whirlwind from there. Ginny remembered bitterly that she had thought those were the happiest days of her life, as she busily planned her wedding to Harry, choosing her bridesmaids, trying out gowns, looking at rings. She and her prince, her childhood love, were finally going to walk down the aisle. She had thought it would be just like the fairytales she had read in old muggle books her father had bought. That after the prince saved the princess (and she always did remember how romantic it was that he had rescued her from the clutches of Tom Riddle in her first year at school), they would marry and live happily ever after. She had been so naïve.

Sitting amidst the ruins their bedroom, Ginny stared at the painting hanging over hers and Harry's bed. She had painted it not long after their honeymoon, when she had still been a girl who spun fanciful dreams. It was a night scene at a French café in the Riviera. Stars filled the dark night sky, twinkling from the magic paint that was slowly fading, and two small figures sat in the distance, holding hands intimately. Intended, of course, to represent herself and Harry in a romantic moment.

That scene had held a dream, but one from which they had long woken. Although Harry was tender and occasionally even passionate towards her, she felt that she could never reach him. He would be sleeping by her side, haunted by whispers of nightmares that he would not share. She knew that he thought she wouldn't understand. As hard as she tried, she could never reach across that barrier of aloofness that separated them.

She took the painting off the wall and packed it away in her suitcase with her girlish dreams.

Ginny didn't paint anymore. Although she had always sketched and painted during her school years, she had given up her art to be close to Harry. He worked as the Director of Dark Arts Investigations at the Ministry of Magic. At home, he never spoke of his job, except to say that he was tired and didn't want to talk about it. 

So Ginny had become a secretary at the Department of Dark Arts Investigations to try to understand what occupied her husband's world. To take him out to lunch, and tell him anecdotes of Fred and George's latest antics just to see a hint of the shy smile that disarmed her heart when she was ten years old. It didn't matter that she hated paperwork. As long as she was near Harry, she felt happy.

At first Harry's occasional smiles had been enough to encourage her. But Harry grew farther away from her still. On good days, he would say thank you when she poured his tea, I love you when they cuddled together in bed, and her heart held onto these moments. Yet the creases around his eyes told of troubles unknown to her, a part of his soul that was always just out of reach. The part of him that barely acknowledged her existence on those other days. 

Ginny had wanted to have children, hoping that a baby would change the fortunes of her marriage. Surely then Harry would realize how important she, and their baby was to him. Harry had frowned, "I don't think we're ready for that, Gin," before looking away into the air at some invisible object that Ginny dearly wanted to punch. 

Thus Ginny had no children. No one to solace her in her struggling marriage, as she grew paler and thinner while desperately trying to keep up their happy façade as the perfect couple. Because Harry's spotless reputation couldn't be tarnished. Everything was about Harry. 

Now Ginny Potter was twenty-five years old, and she was sick of toiling behind a desk, feeling no closer to Harry than she had as an eleven-year-old girl. And she was married to him, for Merlin's sake. In her search for Harry's love and understanding, she had instead lost herself. 

"Snap!" the suitcase shut. This was it. She was really going to leave him. Ginny inspected her frazzled image in the mirror. She had lost a lot of weight recently and there were bags around her eyes. No longer was she the laughing girl of her youth. Was that why Harry didn't love her? No, she told herself, he probably hasn't even noticed. And to be honest, she wasn't even sure that he had ever loved her.

Carefully, Ginny brushed out her hair and applied a curling charm. The now bouncy curls seemed to mock their owner's pallid face. Determinedly, she applied a cosmetic charm to brighten up her appearance. From now on, she was going to be Ginny Weasley, independent woman who lived for own happiness. No more of Ginny Potter, who sacrificed herself without complaint. 

She needed to leave before Harry came home, or she knew she would lose all resolve and melt into his arms. Dear Merlin, this would be so much easier if she didn't still love him so much. Even if it was just in those little moments of happiness when Harry laughed at her jokes or scarfed down her cooking. She couldn't, just couldn't, leave him without an explanation.

Hesitantly, she picked up her quill. Although her pride kicked and screamed, she needed to let him know how she felt. And hope against hope that he would wake up and realize that he needed her. That he loved her.

Tear drops of sorrow fell onto the parchment as she poured out all of her love and frustration towards him. Her hands shook as she sealed the letter and pinned it to the wall with a sticking charm.

Looking one last time at the letter, her eyes blurred by tears, Ginny summoned her suitcase and levitated it to her car.

__

She wrote, "I feel just like that painting collecting dust on the wall   
And every day you walk right by me and don't know I'm there at all   
And I can't think of one single reason why I should be hanging around"   
She signed it, "I hope that you'll miss me", and she drove herself out of town 

"Ginny? What are you doing here?" Molly Weasley's concerned voice inquired. Her baby daughter had just arrived in the enchanted-muggle car that had been her father's wedding gift to her and Harry with a huge suitcase, looking distraught. Was there something wrong between her and Harry?

Ginny hugged her mother tightly. "I'm fine now, Mum. Just glad to be home."

Molly persisted. "Where's Harry?" 

Ginny gave her mother a tired smile. "We just need some time apart. I need to think." Silently she added, "And so does he."

Molly Weasley looked doubtfully at her youngest. Clearly, Ginny wasn't in the mood for a mother-daughter discussion. She folded Ginny into her arms again. "Welcome home, dear."

__

  
Maybe he'll notice her now, maybe he'll open his eyes   
Sometimes it takes somebody leaving for a man to realize   
Maybe he'll tell her she's the only thing that he can't live without   
Now that she's gone maybe he'll notice her now 

***************

"Ginny!" Harry Potter called for his wife. He had been working late, having gone out during the day to investigate reports of dark sorcery in muggle London and spent most of the evening looking up counterspells. Ginny had gone home long before he had returned from London, and Harry struggled to remember if she had even been there in the morning or had taken a sick day.

"I should really pay more attention to her," Harry thought guiltily. It wasn't that he didn't love Ginny, but work always kept him terribly preoccupied. The fall of Voldemort hadn't stopped dark activity of an underground cult, the Essence Robbers, known to sporadically take prisoners and extract magical ability from them. He had been following the case day and night for the last few years, but they always eluded his agents. He wanted to go out and do the field work himself, but was barred by the bureaucracy afraid to lose the "Star" of the Ministry of Magic. Harry really hated his job sometimes.

And then there were the death threats. He had never told Ginny about them because he hadn't wanted to worry her. Harry had little doubt that the authors of the threatening letters and the Essence Robbers were one and the same. After all, whose magical talents would be more valuable than those of Harry Potter? As a result, he had become very paranoid of late, careful to always remain on guard, even in his private life.

That was the main reason he had not wanted children. He hated himself for making Ginny so depressed. He knew that she wanted a child badly, but Harry couldn't risk that a child of his would be a target that could be harmed. He had lost his parents at a young age. He didn't dare to think about losing a child. Or worse yet, leaving Ginny and a baby alone if something were to happen to him.

__

  
When he came home late that evening, he called her name down the hall   
He saw the outline of the painting that used to hang there on the wall   
And in its place on the nail was a letter, he read it out loud to himself   
And the loneliness began to take over and for once he knew just how she felt 

Harry searched the house for his wife. It was unlike Ginny not to be waiting up for him, no matter how many times he had told her not to. Sometimes she was in the kitchen, making him a late night snack. But not tonight. That's odd, Harry pondered. Maybe she was tired and had gone to bed. He walked towards their bedroom.

The room was a mess. The closet doors were thrown wide open and most of Ginny's belongings were gone. 

His first thought was panic. Had the Robbers taken her? But no, they wouldn't have packed up all of her things. Harry spun around. Ginny's painting of their honeymoon had vanished. His heart lurched. Ginny must have taken her things and gone. But why?

As his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room, Harry noticed that in place of the painting was a small parchment tacked hastily to the wall. 

He picked it up and began reading. 

"Dear Harry,

I've been so worried about you. It feels like it's been years since we've really talked. Or maybe I'm remembering wrong, because now I'm not sure if we've ever really had a serious conversation. Why are you always shutting me out? I love you so much, and it hurts that you won't tell me anything about your life. Sometimes it seems that you're barely even there, even when you're right next to me. Do you even see me? Am I not a good enough wife to you? I know I'm not smart like Hermione, or very beautiful, like all those models that always come up to you at parties. But I've tried so hard, Harry, and I just wish you would let me love you. And maybe love me back. I've gone to the Burrow to stay. Will you miss me? I hope so.

All my love,

Ginny"

__

  
Maybe he'll notice her now, maybe he'll open his eyes   
Sometimes it takes somebody leaving for a man to realize   
Maybe he'll tell her she's the only thing that he can't live without   
Now that she's gone maybe he'll notice her now 

Harry dropped the letter, shattered. How could she think that he didn't love her. Or think that she was good enough for him? Ginny was the sweetest and kindest person he had ever known. Everything he did was to protect her. But now, he realized, she didn't need to be protected. She needed to be loved.

Immediately, he apparated over to the Burrow. Ginny was sitting alone in the living room, absently sketching on a notepad with her things strewn about her. She looked up at sound of the pop that accompanied Harry in.

"Harry," she whispered. Before she could say anything else, her eyes went wide as Harry seized her shoulders and kissed her fiercely.

"I've been an idiot, Ginny." 

"So," she faltered nervously, "you still want me?"

"I think I should be the one who asks that question," Harry murmured as his lips brushed hers again. "Forgive me, Ginny. Please come back to me."

__

  
He called her up, he said I have been such a fool   
She said I will come back and boy I still love you 

Her deep brown eyes were hazy and moist now. "Of course, how could I not? I love you so much, Harry Potter." Although they were already holding each other closely, she drew him into an even tighter embrace.

__

  
Maybe he'll notice her now, maybe he'll open his eyes   
Sometimes it takes somebody leaving for a man to realize   
Maybe he'll tell her she's the only thing that he can't live without   
Now that she's gone maybe he'll notice her now 

They were driving back to the house now. Harry snuggling Ginny in his arms as the car drove itself home. He whispered his apologies, and she responded with kisses of forgiveness.

******************

Ginny sat and listened as Harry told her everything about the Essence Robbers and their plot against him. That he had wanted to protect her, that no child of theirs would be safe until they were caught. How was it that so many files about them had passed her desk without her even knowing about these atrocities? She clung to him tightly, as if any moment one of the Robbers would sneak up and snatch Harry away from her.

"So," he concluded, "The goddamn ministry hasn't let me go after these despicable creatures myself. I promise you, Ginny, I'm not going to rest until I eradicate them. I'm quitting this stupid job that doesn't let me do a damn thing and going back into the field. From now on, I'm not going to let anything compromise my commitment to my family," he swore with grim determination.

She kissed him on the cheek. "My hero."

He looked inquiringly at her and smiled slightly. "Of course, you know that means we won't have any more lunches together during the day, if I'm going to be out on duty."

"Oh thank Merlin for that," Ginny declared. "I've been dying to quit that job for ages. All that paperwork drives me crazy," she admitted with a bit of embarrassment.

"So you took the job…why?" he looked quizzically at her.

"For you, why else?" Ginny bit her lip. "I thought if we spent more time together, maybe I could understand you a little better."

Harry looked apologetically at his wife. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay." She kissed him again lightly, this time on his right earlobe. 

"Anyway, now that that's over with. I've been hoping to get back into painting." She looked at him shyly. "What do you think?"

Harry smiled. "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea."

He took her hand in his, much in the manner that she had taken his hand the day they decided to marry, "How does this sound? When this mess with the Essence Robbers is over, I'll take you all around the Continent. We can travel to all the most scenic places in Europe and you can paint your heart out." He paused and added wickedly, "Or, alternatively, we could start on our first child."

"Oh Harry," Ginny's heart was so full she thought she might burst with happiness. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Ginny."

__

  
I'm coming home, maybe you'll notice me now

*************

__

Three years later.

"Ronald Weasley! What on earth are you doing?" Hermione Granger-Weasley admonished her husband.

Ron put on his best puppy dog face to face his wife. "Er, I was just trying to tell Harry and Ginny that it's perfectly safe to teach kids how to fly when they're young."

Harry and Ginny exchanged glances, trying hold back their laughter as Ron cowered under Hermione's gaze.

Hermione was trying to bite back her laughter as well, but put on her most serious expression. "I don't think, dear, that flying is meant for four-year olds." She glanced from their son, Christopher, to Harry and Ginny's daughter, Lillian. "And certainly, not two-year olds."

Ron's face flushed with slight embarrassment. "Well, you see, er, dear. I've sort of been teaching Chris for the last couple of months when you were at work." He looked at Hermione defiantly, "And you know what? He can levitate for five minutes two feet above the ground! How about that?" 

Hermione's lips were twitching, but she continued sternly, "Still, think of how dangerous it is for a small child to be riding a broomstick."

"I think you should be proud of him," Ron said, stubbornly refusing to back down.

"Here we go again," Ginny Potter whispered to her husband. "Bicker, bicker, bicker."

Harry laughed as he intertwined his fingers into Ginny's rich red hair. "Remind me again why I married into this crazy family?" 

She put her arms around his neck and kissed his scar just below the fringe of his messy black hair. 

"This," she whispered. She drew back slightly and nodded towards Lillian, who was happily playing in the grass next to one of Ron's old broomsticks, completely oblivious to Ron and Hermione's argument.

"And that."

"Ah, yes. Thank you." Harry leaned down for another taste of Ginny's lips. 

Not far away, Ron was doing the same thing to Hermione, successfully stopping her from any more remonstrations about Christopher's flying lessons. 

"Ahem." 

Harry and Ginny jumped back from one another, looking like they'd been caught doing something bad. Ron and Hermione had the same guilty look.

Arthur Weasley had stuck his head out the door of the house. "Your mother wanted to me to tell you that dinner's ready."

He was answered by a chorus of mumbles as the two couples ushered their toddlers into the house, trying to look as dignified as possible.

Arthur shook his head with a smile. "Kids today."

***************

A/N: So that's it! My first fanfic. Sorry if the characters are OOC. Like I said, I'm not an R/Hr-er or a H/G-er, so I don't read their fanfic and have no idea how their romances should be written. This is simply my attempt to see how the other half lives. The bit about Harry protecting Ginny from worrying is a bit H/Hr-y to me, but such things cannot be helped, when a pumpkin pie shipper is at the keyboard. Also sorry if the writing style is bad—it's been about five years since I've written a piece of fiction, and this piece was composed in a single afternoon with no previous outline. Ah well. It's just practice anyway. Review if you like. Constructive criticism and flames are both welcome. 

Cheers,

Sydney Lynne 


End file.
